Diversions
by Timeless A-Peel
Summary: A collection of AUs taking Purdey and Gambit where they've never gone before...Complete!
1. Wild West

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Notes: I saw this AU writing meme around the internet, and thought I'd give it a whirl. The idea is to take a character/pairing and write something for them for each of ten different alternate universes. I opted for Purdey and Gambit, and really enjoyed it as a fun writing exercise that let me push the characters in some "out there" directions. Some of the pieces are very brief, others are a little longer, but I hope you'll enjoy them for the bit of fun that they are.

* * *

 **Prompt: Wild West**

"I didn't expect to see you here this evening, Sheriff Gambit," Purdey opined as she slid onto the bar stool next to the town's resident lawman. "Did you come to see the show?"

The sheriff idly swirled the scotch in his glass and smiled appreciatively at the dancehall girl. "You danced beautifully, as always," he complimented. "There isn't a woman alive with your talent and skill."

"Thank you, Sheriff," Purdey replied graciously. "But I don't imagine you abandoned your post just to come here and flatter me."

"I wish that was the case, ma'am," Sheriff Gambit sighed. "But you're right. I have a proposition for you."

Purdey's demeanour instantly turned icy, the feather in her headband quivering dangerously. "I'm not that kind of girl, Sheriff," she said frostily.

Sheriff Gambit held up his hands defensively. "You misunderstand me, ma'am. I need your help."

Purdey still looked unconvinced. "What kind of help?" she asked suspiciously.

Sheriff Gambit took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "There's a notorious bankrobber on the loose. He's hit several of the nearby towns, and I've heard tell he means to visit ours next. They call him Black Hat, and he always covers his face." Purdey slid the paper toward her and realised that it was a wanted poster. The artist's illustration depicted a man wearing a black hat, while a bandanna covered the lower half of his face. "Rumour has it he can't resist visiting a town's dancehall before he pulls off a heist. I was hoping you could keep an eye out for him, maybe make a few inquiries and see if you can identify him."

Purdey cocked her head to one side. "Why me?"

"Because from what I've heard from the other fellows who've 'propositioned' you, you know how to handle yourself. And you're the cleverest person I've ever met." Sheriff Gambit held out a hand beseechingly. "Please, ma'am. You'd be doing this town a great service, and there's a large reward on offer if you help me make an arrest."

Purdey eyed his hand for a moment, then took it and shook it heartily. "You have a deal, Sheriff."

"Excellent!" Sheriff Gambit enthused, raising his glass in a toast. "I'm looking forward to working with you. I think we'll make a good team."

Purdey took the drink the barman offered her and raised it in return. "Do you know something, Sheriff? I think you're right."


	2. Coffee Shop

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Coffee Shop**

"Purdey!" Mike called to his barista. He was balancing a tray of rejected coffees in each hand. "Quit adding vodka, bitters, and gin to people's drinks! We're not licensed to sell Purdka lattes!"


	3. Shapeshifters

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Shapeshifters**

Amongst the small herd of horses gracing the grounds of John Steed's stately country home, two examples—one tawny, the other jet black—seemed strangely disinterested in the plentiful grazing opportunities on offer.

"Did you hear anything in the riding party?" Gambit wanted to know.

Purdey flicked her tail distractedly and looked heavenward in thought. "Well, let's see. Lady Crawford is having an affair. Sir Godfrey is recovering from gout. And I'm quite certain the Minister is abusing his expense account."

Gambit twitched an ear both in annoyance and to discourage a particularly persistent horsefly. "I meant, have you found out who's trying to kill Steed?"

"Oh, that," Purdey said unconcernedly. "Nothing so far."

Gambit pawed the ground in frustration. "Damn. I thought someone would show their hand. We know two of them are conspiring. You'd think riding would be the perfect time to talk strategy without anyone but the horses hearing."

Purdey whinnied in derision. "I told you we should have hung about after the cocktail party instead of changing. The stables weren't going anywhere."

Gambit snorted. "Do you think they were going to be stupid enough to plot a murder right in front of us?"

"Well, if you're so sure of your brilliant plan, what have you come up with?"

"Nothing," Gambit admitted balefully. "Except that Miss Pettigrew seems to have taken a shine to me no matter what form I'm in. She keeps trying to give me sugar."

"When you're a human or horse?"

Gambit's teeth appeared in a wicked horsey grin. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Purdey became the first horse known to mankind to roll her eyes in annoyance. "Really, Mike Gambit, you're incorrigible. You'll have that chestnut mare over there making eyes at you next."

"Is that a challenge?"

Purdey didn't bother acknowledging that bit of nonsense. "This plan is ridiculous. I'm going to have saddle sores for a week, I'm tired of sleeping in the stables, and I'm sick to death of eating grass and carrots."

"Most horses don't live on a diet of marshmallows and steak au poivre," Gambit pointed out mildly.

"That's their loss, not mine," Purdey sniffed, then caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. "Who's that?"

Gambit squinted into the distance, desperately wishing he could raise a hoof to shield his eyes against the mid-afternoon sun. "It looks like Lady Crawford and the Minister, walking into the forest, with a shovel."

"I wanted an answer, not a round of Cluedo. What are they doing?"

"Let's find out." Gambit grinned as much as a horse could grin. "Come on, Purdey-girl. I'll race you."


	4. Fantasy or Fairy Tale

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Fantasy/Fairy Tale**

Sir Michael of Gambit stood in the empty tower in puzzlement. He was sure that there was supposed to be a princess in there somewhere. That seemed to be the general consensus in the kingdom. A princess, trapped in a tower, surrounded by all manner of nasty obstacles, just waiting for some brave and gallant knight to free her from her prison. He'd come all this way and found a bed, a table and chairs, and a surprisingly large wardrobe full of luxurious gowns, but no princess. It really was rather embarrassing to come all this way just to find the occupant had nipped out for a spot of dress shopping.

There was a sudden clatter of rock on rock. Sir Michael swung around just in time to see a woman with short blonde hair heave herself through the window, gown trailing in her wake. She landed inside with no small amount of grace, and set about undoing the ribbons she used to keep her skirt hitched around her thighs and out of the way. Sir Michael watched her with a mixture of bemusement and awe. "Princess Purdey?" he tried.

The woman looked up in surprise. "Oh, I wasn't aware I had company. Can I help you?"

"Er, I'm here to rescue you?" Sir Michael hadn't meant it to sound like a question, but he suddenly felt very unsure of his ground.

Princess Purdey straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "You've taken your time, haven't you?"

"Well, I had to get through the haunted forest first," Sir Michael pointed out.

"Oh, that," Princess Purdey scoffed. "It's not so bad if you know the shortcuts."

"Then there was the wall of thorns."

"Doable if you dress appropriately."

"The crocodile-filled moat."

"They're perfectly agreeable if they're fed first."

"And finally, the dragon." Sir Michael arched an interested eyebrow. "Care to comment on the dragon?"

"He's very ill-tempered in the morning. It's best to sneak in during his afternoon nap." Princess Purdey's face broke into a wide grin. "I've named him Terry."

"Terry?" Sir Michael repeated weakly.

Princess Purdey shrugged. "I've been here so long I had to call him something. He looked like a Terry."

Sir Michael had used a few other words to describe the dragon, but they weren't fit for use in front of any lady, let alone a princess, although he wasn't entirely certain this princess didn't have worse oaths in her vocabulary than he did. "Sorry, but do you actually need rescuing? It sounds like you already know how to get out of here."

"Oh, I do," Princess Purdey confirmed.

There was a moment of silence.

"Then why are you still here?" Sir Michael asked tiredly.

"Isn't it obvious?" Princess Purdey exclaimed, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't have a ride back to the kingdom. I don't know about you, but I don't fancy walking all the way back to the castle in these shoes. I did ask Terry if he'd run me back, but he tried to crisp me. I took that as a 'no'."

Sir Michael eyed her blonde locks. "Is that what happened to your hair? The dragon singed it off?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Princess Purdey chastised. "It was getting in the way."

"Well, your highness wears it very well," complimented Sir Michael. There was something both fascinating and infuriating about the princess, and it made him want to know her better.

"Thank you, kind sir." She preened a little at the compliment, and for the first time Sir Michael felt like he was moving toward solid ground. She seemed to realise that she ought to observe the formalities, and added, "Pray tell, what is your name?"

"Sir Michael of Gambit, Your Highness." He swept her an elaborate bow. "And though you may no longer require rescuing, it may please Your Highness to know that my noble steed is waiting for me just outside the haunted forest."

"That is good news indeed," Princess Purdey enthused. "Pray tell, what is your horse's name?"

"John."

The princess seemed underwhelmed by this intelligence. "For a horse?"

"It can't be worse than Terry the dragon."

"I suppose," the princess sighed. "I hope he is stout of heart if you left him outside of that forest."

"He's no ordinary horse," Sir Michael told her conspiratorially. "I think the forest has more to worry about than he does."

"That's very encouraging," the princess observed. "Let's make haste. The cupboards are bare in this castle and I'm absolutely famished."

"Right." Sir Michael drew his sword and started to go back the way he'd come, but the princess tapped him on the shoulder.

"It's much easier if you go out the window," she told him. "You'll avoid Terry and the thorns aren't nearly as thick."

Sir Michael leaned out the window sceptically. "I don't doubt your word, Your Highness, but I'm concerned about the sudden stop at the bottom."

"Don't be ridiculous. There's a drainpipe just there." The princess pointed to the right of the window. "That takes you down to the parapets, and from there it's smooth sailing." She looked Sir Michael up and down. "You may have to lose the armour first, though. It won't do much for your flexibility."

Sir Michael treated her to a wicked smile. "Your Highness, what kind of knight do you think I am?"

The princess' eyes were dancing. "The right kind, I hope. Here, let me help you."

"As my lady commands."


	5. In SPACE!

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: . . . In SPACE!**

"This is all your fault, Mike Gambit," Purdey accused, as she watched the ground recede rapidly into the distance through the tiny porthole window.

"I pressed one button," Gambit, floating off to her left, defended. "Just one. How was I supposed to know it was the ignition?"

"Because it was a cliché big red button and you pressed it while asking the most clichéd question in the world, 'What does this button do?' Honestly, Mike Gambit, for a man so enamoured with his electronic gadgets, you show a startling lack of awareness of how they work sometimes."

"I got caught up in the moment!" Gambit countered. "Everyone's heard the stories about how Steed and Tara King accidentally launched themselves into space. I can't believe the Ministry kept Steed's rocket after they came back down, let alone fixed it up. It's a piece of history. I got carried away."

"Obviously. But when I agreed to come along on your field trip, I didn't expect to be involved in a recreation of the original event." Purdey sighed as her legs floated upward. "I suppose I should be thankful I wore trousers today."

"That makes one of us," Gambit quipped, 'swimming' over to study one of the control panels.

Purdey executed a flawless somersault in mid-air by way of a retort. "Can you get us down again?"

"Show-off. And yes, eventually."

Purdey righted herself with a start. "What do you mean, 'eventually'?"

"Well, I have to figure out how it works first," Gambit pointed out. "It took Steed and Tara awhile to get back after all."

"It shouldn't be too difficult," Purdey dismissed, drifting toward a panel of her own and opening it to reveal a tangle of wires. "I rewired that lift in Paris. Once you've worked out how to go up and down, the rest is irrelevant. This is more or less the same thing, only on a larger scale."

Gambit opened up his panel, watched the wiring spill out and begin to sway back and forth in the zero-gravity, like wiry seaweed. "It might be a little more difficult than that."

"At least we won't starve in the interim." Purdey had found the stores. She pulled open a vacuum-packed envelope and a handful of marshmallows floated out.

Gambit watched Purdey float after the marshmallows, catching them in her mouth as she went. "You know, there were rumours about what Steed and Tara did while they were up here."

A marshmallow escaped Purdey's grasp. "Oh?"

Gambit floated up to meet her. "Well, there are lots of ways to experiment with zero gravity." He held out a hand. "Shall we dance? Because I'll bet no one in the Royal Ballet's performed in space."

Purdey's smile was brilliant. "Mike Gambit, you do beat all."


	6. Apocalypse

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Apocalypse**

"There. That should hold," Purdey pronounced as she secured the door to the bunker. She dusted off her hands with a certain amount of satisfaction, then looked downstairs, only to find Gambit sitting disconsolately on one of the cots. "Mike, what's the matter?" she inquired, clattering hurriedly down the steps. She remembered their current circumstances, and added, "Besides the obvious."

Gambit lifted his gaze from the floor with great effort, and when he met her eyes, Purdey could tell he'd been crying. "'S nothing," he managed, wiping his nose with his sleeve like a five-year-old lost on Bournemouth Pier.

"It most certainly is not nothing, which, by definition, means it's something," Purdey pointed out with relentless logic. She settled down on the cot beside him and put an arm across his shoulders. "We've nothing to do and nowhere to go, and I'm very persistent, so you may as well tell me."

Gambit snuffled and looked heavenward in an attempt to compose himself. "It's stupid," he muttered. "Only, when I was a kid, my first memory is of me and my mum getting caught in one of the bombings during the war." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I wasn't even three, and I don't know if I've ever been so scared in my life. I never wanted anyone to have to go through something like that again. No one should have to face that kind of thing. So when I joined the Ministry, I thought that was my chance to do my part and make sure this—" He pointed heavenward to the roof of their bunker. "—never happened. But here we are and there are heaven knows how many kids out there just as scared or more scared than I was. And I failed them." He punched his thigh uselessly. "I could have done more."

Purdey tsked in mild reproach. "The trouble with you, Mike Gambit, is that as a noble, self-sacrificing idiot, you set yourself ridiculous goals, and then torture yourself when you don't meet them. And in the process, you completely miss all the good you _have_ done."

"But I could have—" Gambit tried to protest.

"Mike Gambit, the only reason we had as much warning as we did that this—" She pointed at the bunker door. "—was coming is because you went undercover for a month, got caught, endured brutal interrogation, were nearly executed, and managed to escape and get the intel back to our people. You're the reason we were able to put the shelters together and get people underground before it was too late. You're the reason heaven knows how many people are still alive, including our family members, and if you'd stayed up there trying to coordinate evacuations for one more minute, you'd be a cinder by now."

Gambit still looked angry with himself. "But if I could have destroyed the device…"

"With what? Even if you managed to get past the security protocols and the armed guards, you would have needed explosives to destroy it properly. And even you must admit that you're not capable of rigging anything up with your cufflinks and a wristwatch."

Gambit grinned wanly in spite of himself. "Well, it sounds silly when you put it like that."

"It sounds silly no matter which way you put it," Purdey declared. "You did everything you could, Mike. I'm not going to sit in here for who knows how long and watch you torture yourself. I'd rather take my chances out there."

Gambit, already physically, emotionally, and mentally worn out from the events of the past few weeks, gave in to the sheer logical onslaught that was Purdey. "Thanks, Purdey-girl," he said, with a smile in his voice. He rested a grateful hand on her knee and squeezed gently. "I'll try not to bring the mood in the bunker down."

"I should hope so," Purdey huffed. "And to think the worst I thought I'd have to cope with while being stuck in here with you was bad jokes about the pair of us having to help repopulate the planet."

Gambit snorted a little in offence. "Give me a little more credit than that."

"Bad joke or not," Purdey began, transferring his hand from her knee to press against her stomach, "I hope you're not adverse to the idea."

Gambit's head whipped around in surprise. "Purdey, you're not-? But we-? You're not saying-? Am I-?"

"Since you seem incapable of finishing any of those questions, I'll save you the trouble. The answer to all of the above is 'yes'." Purdey reached beneath the cot and retrieved a rather hefty tome. "I saved this from Kendrick's surgery before we made a run for it. If we don't get out of here in the next six months, you're going to have to be at the business end and catch. I'd suggest you start your reading now." She handed the book to the shellshocked Gambit, then rose and made her way over to the supplies. "I hope the rations are good. I'm positively starving."


	7. Schoolfic

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Schoolfic**

"Hey, Purdey-girl, can I borrow a pencil?" Mike asked with his most charming smile. Purdey shot him a look, chastising him for his lack of organization, but retrieved one from her pencilcase nonetheless. "Thanks," Mike acknowledged, shooting her a quick salute before turning to scribble something in the notebook balanced on his knees. Purdey grinned at him in spite of herself. They were sitting on the steps in front of their school, finishing some homework together before they went home for the day.

They'd made a habit of this since they were ten, when Mike had first arrived at Purdey's school. Unlike most of the pupils, he was a scholarship boy, and his better-off fellow students had immediately set about making sure he never forgot it. Purdey, who'd always been of the opinion that class in no way compensated for being a jerk, had been the first to stand up for him and give the bullies what-for, even if Mike had seemed quite capable of taking care of them on his own. Still, it had probably saved him a trip to the headmaster's office, so it was all for the good. They'd been inseparable ever since. Every day after school, they worked together on their homework for about an hour. Then they walked to their after school lessons—Purdey to ballet classes, Mike to the local dojo where he practised karate. At the weekends they sometimes went to a film or dancing, or over to each other's houses for a round of Scrabble. It was all perfectly innocent.

Their unusually close bond had marked them out as odd, not that they cared much. Boys and girls weren't supposed to be friends at ten; they were meant to treat one another as an odious, poorly-understood exotic species. Truth be told, they weren't really supposed to be friends now that they were seventeen, either. Not "just friends" at any rate. Everyone was _always_ going on about how they ought to get together, even Purdey's mother, who was always making pointed comments about how nice young Michael was whenever he came over. Purdey found this supremely annoying. No one seemed to understand that her and Mike really were just friends, and they didn't think about each other like _that_. Purdey had even had a boyfriend named Larry for about six months last year, which she had held up as proof that there was really nothing going on romantically between her and Mike. The fact that Larry and Mike hadn't got on wasn't a factor in their break-up at all. Well, at least not directly. Larry had eventually issued an ultimatum that Purdey choose between him and Mike, not wanting to share his girlfriend's attentions with another boy. Purdey knew Mike would never make such an outrageous demand, so Larry had to go.

Everyone at school had taken this as absolute proof that Purdey had a thing for Mike, which had irked Purdey no end. She was being loyal to her friend, nothing more. She was forever trying to convince her female friends that no, Mike hadn't been jealous of Larry, anymore than she was jealous of the fact that girls at school were _always_ flirting with Mike. Even the posh ones who'd been among the first to make comments about how he'd earned his way into the school. Mike had gone out with quite a few of them, but never for any length of time, and he'd never had a girlfriend who lasted more than a couple of weeks as far as Purdey could remember. Mike had joked once that he barely had enough time to juggle one girl, let alone two. Purdey had laughed and tried to convince herself that she wasn't more pleased about this than she let on.

Purdey shook her head. No, she definitely wasn't jealous about any other girls in Mike's life. She definitely wasn't pleased that he didn't seem serious about anyone else, either. Of course, he was her favourite person in the world to spend time with, and of course she had noticed that the older he got, the less he looked like a boy, and the more he was starting to look like a man. A very handsome man, with gorgeous, thick, black curly hair, and a strong jaw, and a body that was starting to muscle up nicely from all that time at the dojo…

"Purdey-girl!" Mike nudged her in the side.

"What?" Purdey started in surprise, nearly dropping her own notebook as she jerked out of her reverie. "What is it?"

Mike was looking at her oddly. "You okay? I said your name three times, but you were miles away."

Purdey coloured up, worried he could somehow read her thoughts. "I'm fine."

Mike didn't look convinced, but had bigger things to worry about. "See that bloke across the street?"

Purdey shielded her eyes against the sun, squinted past a cluster of pupils chattering animatedly about the dance next week. "Which one?"

"The one in the bowler and brolly," Mike identified, "pretending to read _The Times_."

Purdey spotted him. He was wearing an impeccably-tailored grey suit to match the aforementioned accessories. He looked harmless enough, but Purdey's gut told her there was something inherently…wrong about his presence. "Maybe he's a parent?" she tried, in effort to convince herself as much as Mike.

Mike snorted. "No one here would let their parents stand out there in full view of the whole school for half an hour without dying of embarrassment. Besides, he keeps looking at us."

Purdey's eyes widened in alarm. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Mike sounded excited by the prospect. Purdey knew he was desperate to have some sort of adventure. She'd had to talk out of joining the navy when he was fourteen, and he was always rattling on about buying fast cars when he could afford it, and travelling the world. "Come on, let's go talk to him."

"Are you mad?" Purdey hissed. "If he's lurking around here, we should tell the head."

"Tell them what? That there's a bloke reading the paper and he's not even on school grounds?" Mike was already packing up his school bag. "Come on, let's go."

"Those karate classes have made you too confident, Mike Gambit!" Purdey chastised, but he was already moving, his smile daring her to follow him. Purdey hurriedly stuffed her belongings into her bag, muttering to herself all the while. Someone had to save him from having his nose broken. Again.

Purdey half-expected the man to make a getaway when he saw them advancing on him, but to her surprise he had folded up the paper and appeared to be waiting for them. Purdey nearly ran into Mike's back when he stopped short just inches from the stranger. Mike was barely shorter than him, thanks to a recent growth spurt, and this was clearly a boost to his confidence. "Saw you staring, mister. Are you looking for us?" Mike had done a good job of smoothing out his accent to better fit in with his peers over the years, but his cockney often came out in times of stress, and this was one of them. He was nervous as well as excited.

Purdey was about to chastise him for this unceremonious greeting, but was cut short by the stranger in question. "As a matter of fact, I am," he told them.

Mike clearly hadn't been expecting such candour. "Er, you are?" he managed weakly.

"Indeed. Allow me to introduce myself. John Steed, at your service." The stranger doffed his bowler at the two teenagers. "Purdey's father said the pair of you might be able to assist me."

"My father?" Purdey repeated incredulously. "How do you know my father?"

"We move in the same circles," Steed said vaguely. "I realise this is all rather unexpected, but I'm investigating a radical youth group, and I need someone to infiltrate who's rather closer to the right age than I am."

"You want us to spy for you?" Mike sounded both incredulous and excited at the prospect.

"Put bluntly, yes."

"What do you think, Purdey-girl?" Mike asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"I think we should call my father," Purdey declared, taking Mike's hand and pulling him away.

"Of course," Steed agreed, unfolding the paper. "I'll be here when you've decided."

Purdey half-pulled, half-dragged Mike back across the street. "Do you think he's legit?" Mike was asking her.

"I don't know," Purdey replied. She wasn't ready to admit to herself or Mike that she rather hoped he was. Her heart was pounding, but Mike's sense of adventure was clearly contagious. She hoped her father would answer his phone, because she was finding the whole thing rather thrilling.


	8. Police or Firefighters or Medical

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Police/Firefighters/Medical**

"It's not as bad as it looks," Dr. Mike Gambit said the second he was wheeled through the doors at A&E.

Dr. Purdey was instantly walking alongside his gurney, assessing the damage. "Is that your professional opinion or the blood loss talking?"

"Both," Gambit admitted, a little too cheerfully. The painkillers were kicking in now, and he was feeling a little loopy. "The driver who hit me was an idiot, but you don't need a professional opinion for that."

"Yes, well, in _my_ professional opinion, you need immediate surgery," Purdey pronounced, "and since I'm the most senior surgeon in this hospital, I'm going to be the one to do it."

A frown line appeared between Gambit's eyes. "Hang on, _I'm_ the most senior surgeon in this hospital!"

"So you keep saying," Purdey sighed. "But since you can't do surgery on yourself, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

In his incapacitated state, Gambit was considering her words with a little too much interest. "Surgery on myself…"

"Don't get any ideas," Purdey warned, already moving toward the operating theatre. "I'm going to scrub up. Try not to bleed out in the interim."


	9. Supernatural

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Supernatural**

"Purdey? Purdey!"

Purdey wrenched open her drooping eyes, half-asleep and entirely convinced that the voice echoing in her head was all a dream. "Go away, Mike," she mumbled thickly. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Purdey!" the voice repeated, more insistent this time.

It was loud enough to wake Purdey up properly, and she bolted upright in alarm when she saw what was standing at the foot of her bed.

Mike Gambit was watching her, anxiety written all over his semi-transparent face, unearthly glow partially illuminating the room.

Purdey stared at him for a long moment, brain desperately trying to make some sort of sense of what she was seeing. "I'm going mad," she murmured dazedly. "The stress has finally driven me over the edge, and I've started hallucinating."

"No, you're not," Gambit cut in a bit desperately, leaning in as if to drive home his point. Purdey cringed away in fear, and he seemed to realise his mistake, straightened up to increase the distance between them. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "But it's really me. Or part of me, anyway. I've been trying to get you to see me all month. It's taken this long to build up enough psychic energy to materialise."

Purdey felt questions bubbling up in spite of her shock. "Why are you sort of see-through and glowing? You look like something out of _Star Wars_."

Gambit looked down at his own hands and pulled a face. "Search me. I've just mastered the visibility trick. Aesthetics are the least of my worries."

"Am I the first person to see you?" Purdey wanted to know, throwing back the bedclothes and starting to cautiously approach the spectre. He wasn't performing any of the usual ghostly haunting functions meant to cause fright. In fact, he just seemed like…Gambit. Only a little paler than usual, and with added glow-in-the-dark abilities.

"The first living one," Gambit clarified, then added at Purdey's bemused look. "I tried getting Steed to see me, but his house is already chock full of the ghosts of generations of dead Steeds. I think I just got lost in the shuffle." He paused, then added ruefully, "And his dead aunts really aren't at home to company. Except Auntie Penelope, who kept trying to feed me rock cakes. I don't know which was worse."

Purdey resisted the urge to smile. "I didn't know ghosts could be haunted."

"You don't know the half of it," Gambit shuddered. "But listen, I need to tell you. Hawkins is the double agent. He's the one who's been selling secrets, and he gave me the knockout drug."

"Knockout drug?" Purdey exclaimed. "You mean your coma wasn't caused by that blow to the head?"

Gambit shook his ghostly, uninjured head vehemently. "It's a new thing the other side's developed. Sends you into prolonged unconsciousness. But Hawkins has a stash of the antidote at his place. I've been there." He remembered his state of being. "Well, sort of. Anyway, get Kendrick to inject a dose of it into me and I'll wake up faster than Sleeping Beauty."

"And here I thought all you needed was a kiss," Purdey quipped.

Gambit's ghostly grin was just as saucy as it was on his corporeal form. "No reason you can't do both."

Purdey shook her head. "You should have thought of that before you told me about the antidote." Her smile wavered slightly. "I have missed you, Mike Gambit. I've been talking to you at your bedside, but despite what you might think, I prefer it when you talk back."

"I'll remind you of that next time you get annoyed with me," Gambit quipped, but found himself cut short when Purdey suddenly pressed her mouth to his. Despite his seeming lack of form, she could feel his lips against hers and his shoulder beneath her palm, a sort of fizzing solidness that seemed to bypass her nerves and leap straight to her brain.

"I'll remind you of that, too," he told her, when she broke away.

"Will you?" she said, eyes dancing. "I'm not sure that it counts if only one of us is corporeal." Gambit sighed knowingly. Trust Purdey to have a get-out clause.


	10. Regency

Diversions

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **Prompt: Regency**

The horses started and the carriage ground to a halt. The driver desperately tried to calm them, then froze as the cloaked silhouette of a man on horseback materialised out of the fog of the night. "Stand and deliver," came the ominous warning.

"Not one word," Lady Purdey instructed her driver, leaning half out of the coach door. She turned the doorknob and leapt the short distance to the ground, skirt held up judiciously to keep it from trailing in the mud. She hurried over to the man on horseback, who had just pulled down the bandanna covering his face. "Could you forgo the dramatics for once? That line became tedious ages ago."

The legendary highwayman known as Mike Gambit grinned unrepentantly. "Well, if a job like this can't be fun."

"You have a very strange definition of fun, sir," Lady Purdey declared, but took the hand that was offered to her and swung onto the horse behind him. "Have you had word from Sir John?"

Gambit nodded as she readjusted her cloak and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Yes, and whatever it is, it's urgent."

"I thought as much. Collins!" she called to the driver, even as Gambit turned his horse around to set off back down the road. "Tell Lady Davenport I've been detained. You can pick me up at Sir John's. And don't tell my mother where I've gone."

"Will your honour be safe, my ladyship? With this…person?" the driver asked with trepidation.

"The question you should be asking is, will his honour be safe with me?" Lady Purdey quipped, just before she disappeared into the fog.

* * *

That's your lot! Hope you enjoyed these flights of fancy. :-)


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